Today,
September 11, 2004 I am informed by my dear friend Dr. Pierre Peiffer that
the town of Pompey, France is paying honor to the nearly 5,000 casualties the
15,000 man 80th Infantry Division suffered during a two-month period
liberating the area around the Moselle River. They have chosen my own
Uncle, Staff Sergeant Frank L. "Pappy" Ream Jr. as the symbol of
this honor. To say the very least, I am proud that my uncle will
represent so many. Words cannot quite express how deeply touched I
am. The "Bloody Moselle" was one of the costliest battles the
division ever fought in terms of losses of people. Sadly, no one seems
to have a clear idea of how many French civilians and German soldiers lost
their lives in that horrible period. My uncle was a shy, humble man who
would have been embarrassed at this attention given him. He was a
normal, average kid from Independence, Missouri. He grew up in a very
poor family of fifteen. He was of part-French and part German
ancestry. He worked to help support his family. Even after he was
grown, and a Staff Sergeant in the 702nd Tank Battalion Red Devils, he had
his pay sent home to his family, leaving nothing for himself.

"Junior"
as he was known to his family joined the U.S. Army in 1940. He served
in the last of the horse cavalry in the 2nd Cavalry Division. When the
U.S. Armor Corps was created, he jumped at the chance to become a
tanker. In 1943, he heard of a new battalion being formed. It
would be his first chance at having his own platoon, and the first step in
fulfilling his dream to someday become an officer. See, while he was so
busy helping to support his family, one of those things he neglected for
himself was a college education. That was required to get into the
officer candidate school. Therefore, Frank would have to work himself
up through the ranks if he wanted to make his dream come true. This
opportunity with this new 702nd Tank Battalion looked like his chance to make
it happen. Frank was part of the cadre, and assigned to act as platoon
sergeant for 3rd Platoon, Company B. The young boys who soon joined 3rd
Platoon as raw recruits came to call him "Pappy", because he was so
much older than they. While "Pappy" whipped these raw
recruits into shape, giving them the training they would need to fight a war,
survive and win, he also helped educate his immediate superior, Lt. William
"Bull" Miller. Miller had been to college, and officer
candidate school, but he didn't know much about what the everyday business of
running a tank platoon was really like.

Decades
later, retired Col. Wm. "Bull" Miller told me that Frank helped him
a lot, but never tried to take advantage of it, nor act like he resented it
in any way. While Miller was Frank's boss, he thought of him more as a
partner. They trained their men, and the unit prepared to go off to
war. "Pappy" suffered health problems left over from his work
in the swamps of Arkansas, when he had worked for the C.C.C. before joining
the Army. The Army doctors wanted to declare him unfit for combat
duty. "Pappy" considered the "boys" in his platoon
to be like his own son's, although in truth, he really wasn't that much older
than they. The thought of leaving these boys he was so proud of, was
abhorrent to him. He felt that somehow, as long as he was there to
watch over them, they would be okay. To add to his worries, his wife
was expecting a child, and the doctors didn't expect her or the baby to
survive. Frank was tortured with being torn between loyalty to his wife
and to these "boys" he felt responsible for. He knew there
was nothing that he could do to change whatever outcome came from his wife's
situation. However, he believed that there was something he could do
about making sure his "boys" survived. So, against the
pleadings of his family and the advice of his doctors, S/Sgt.
"Pappy" Ream insisted on going to war with his "boys".

Third Platoon
suffered it's first real taste of war at Argentan, France when it was sent
into an ambush which destroyed all but "Pappy's" tank "Ceci
C'est!-This is it!" His tank only escaped by chance. The
platoon was devastated. They had lost men, brothers and friends.
In the midst of this heartache for 3rd Platoon, "Pappy" got a
V-Mail telling him of the birth of his son, and that his wife and baby were
okay. He also got a photo of the baby! His feeling of relief at
this news was countered by what his "boys" had just been
through. To make matters worse, his company commander had been placed
under arrest and faced the death penalty for trying to persuade General
McBride not to send another platoon into the ambush at Argentan. When
McBride insisted upon this stupid idea, Captain Stover had respectfully
refused the order on behalf of his men. McBride had Stover
arrested. They got new tanks and new men to replace the losses.
On the way to the Marne River, "Pappy" lost his Gunner John
"Bucky" Weaver when a tank hatch slammed shut, cutting off
"Bucky's" fingers. "Pappy's" Loader Floyd
"Stew" Stewart took over the gunner seat for "Bucky" and
they made do.

As they
approached the Moselle River, the fighting got more intense. The
Germans were determined to halt the Americans at the river. General
Patton had other ideas. As they approached the river on September 7,
1944, 3rd Platoon got the job of assisting the infantry in taking the hill in
the Foret l'Avant Garde just above Pompey. They fought their way up the
hill, the tanks taking the old fire-road. They chased the Germans off
the hill, and down the opposite side toward the river. For the most
part, the fighting appeared to be over for the moment. Sitting in the
clearing at the top of the hill, Lt. Miller realized that the Germans would
soon counterattack. When they came, it would be through the trees, and
they wouldn't have much advance warning. Lt. Miller ordered
"Pappy" to hold the position with his tank & Sgt. Thomas's
tank. Lt. Miller took his tank and the other two back down the hill to
refuel and rearm. His plan was to return to the hilltop and hold it
while "Pappy" & Sgt. Thomas came down to refuel and rearm.

Up on the
hill, "Pappy" sat in his tank commander's hatch, scanning the woods
for any sign that the Germans were counterattacking. Meanwhile, on the
opposite side of the river, some unknown German soldier was firing a hidden
20mm anti-aircraft gun into the direction of the Americans, in the off chance
that the shells might hit something. Unluckily, one shell did hit the
turret of "Ceci C'est!-This is it!", skipped, hit the periscope and
ricocheted up and hit "Pappy", blowing off the right side of his
head. His body dropped down into the tank, spraying blood and gore all
over "Stew's" back as he sat in the gunner seat.
"Stew" took command, and ordered the driver to get the tank down
the hill to the medics. They got to the bottom just as Lt. Miller was
getting ready to come back up. They got "Pappy" out of the
tank and into an ambulance, which took him to the field hospital. That
was the last most of them ever saw of "Pappy". His fellow
Platoon Sergeant Fred Riley had also been wounded, and lay in the bed next to
"Pappy" in the hospital. Seven days later, on September 14,
while the division was fighting for it's life in the Moselle crossing, Staff
Sergeant Frank L. "Pappy" Ream Jr. died. The reality is that
he was no doubt brain-dead when he was hit, but his heart continued to beat
for seven days. They didn't understand the idea of brain-dead back
then.

Just today, I
think I found out what happened to the German who was firing that
anti-aircraft gun which killed my uncle. From my friend Ken Aladeen
comes this: "It was some time in September of 1944 our 57mm AT gun
platoon was ordered to take positions on the steep banks overlooking the
Moselle River. Directly in front of us was the small town of
Pompey. Our mission was to see that no further damage was done to the
three-span bridge immediately to our right. One span had been blown by the
retreating Germans. Our engineers could span that gap with Bailey
sections. However if another span was blown, it would be too much for
the Bailey sections. The first day, we sat silently and watched the
Germans wheel one of their multi-tube mortars in to position. This is
the infamous "screaming meemies" you may have heard about.
That night we heard the many shells leaving that thing. Next morning we
broke radio silence and were successfully able to vector our artillery on to
the damned thing. We heard no more out of them. Later three A-20
light attack bombers came in at tree top height and bombed the road junction we
were looking at. As the A-20s approached, we watched as the enemy
uncovered a 20mm ack-ack. Once again we were able to vector our 105's
in on them and that gun was destroyed. The third day we were ordered to
leave the positions (which we were glad to do) Having not fired a shot we
still felt that we had had a successful mission." Ken was in the
318th Infantry Regiment, to which "Pappy's" Company B was assigned.

Today the
area around Pompey is thankfully a happier, beautiful place. The
terrain looks much like my own Missouri Ozarks region. The people who
live there are warm, kind and generous. They are also grateful.
They know that had these Americans not liberated their country, the world
would be a much different place today. Today, in the spot where
"Pappy" Ream died 60 years ago sits a community center and
children's playground. The beauty and majesty of the hills and valleys
no longer are marred by death and destruction. Instead of the sounds of
artillery, bombs and guns, you hear the song of birds in the forest.
Today, the French children can play with the innocence that all children
should have. This is in stark contrast to what a small boy named Pierre
Peiffer experienced in 1944. Pierre was deeply touched by all he
witnessed back then. Seeing so much death and destruction helped
inspire him to become a doctor and heal people. He never forgot those
brave men who liberated his world there in the Moselle valley. He
remained grateful for what he had. It was Dr. Pierre Peiffer, who got
the wheels turning that resulted in today's celebration in Pompey.
Words cannot express my gratitude and love for this man. I call him
friend, with great pride. I cannot imagine how he came from where he
was 60 years ago to where he is today, and I admire his strength and
goodness. I am sure that my uncle would be proud to know that his death
helped such people have a better life. As I pointed out above, my uncle
was one to put others before himself.

I wish to
express my gratitude to the Mayor of Pompey, Laurent Trogrlic, the Le Conseil
Municipal, the Les Associations Patriotiques, the people of Pompey, and Dr.
Pierre Peiffer. Those 5,000 casualties were not for nothing, if peace
reigns and people such as these thrive. May God bless them all.